Before I get into Europe, and the flights here, let me break down the pregame.
We arrive @ 8 o'clock, and Joel and I are tired, cranky, and hungry. During the car ride, I realize that I left my scrumptious (talk shit!) German Chocolate squares in my car. Then, in a hurry to ensure that Dave didn't discover them a week later looking like moldy Chia Pets, I reached for my phone to text Brian.
I had canceled text message capability earlier that day.
Called Brian, one mistake down. Plus, we know that Ann loves German chocolate.
Later at Crista's house, I decide that like everything else Becki does, it wasn't good enough of a pack job. I didn't do a better re-pack (1 point Becki) but made some rather startling discoveries.
1. The cord that both connects her camera AND charges it with my computer was wrong, it was her phone charger. And of course, in the spirit of consumerism and market functionality, all camera chargers are not created equal. (Minus 1 point Becki)
2. We hadn't printed any boarding passes yet.
3. I forgot sunglasses and my razor.
In an attempt to solve #'s 1 & 2 in one fell swoop, while also sneaking food before a well-prepared but small meal Joel and I took off to find the Kinko's I saw on my google maps. After driving 15 minutes around Pinole, we realize that it's an exit down the 80. It's 8:49, and Kinko's closes at 9. We're those fucking guys, and trust me, the front desk guy gave me the look. Fuck him, I'll never see him again. I quickly put both my high school AIMing AND experienced time wasting to use, and before you know it, I have both the Delta and Ryan Air check-in sites up. I fill out both personal information areas for each of us, on each site.
Apparently you need to input the passport numbers to continue. The passports are at Crista's. Becki shut off her phone earlier that day. And I don't know Crista's phone #. It's 9:01. Cool.
I return to Crista's with a look of chagrin, and only a Big Carl to fill my belly. For the men reading this e-mail, yes, it is worth it. Get it. The meal followed- Crista and husband Jon are beginning a workout program for a body building contest so the salmon and green beans, although delicious, are merely a aperitif.
We finally get our lives in the bags, set aside our day clothes and ready for bed. I decide that I should look for the closest BART station. It's not close, minus 1 point Becki. Becki, by the way, started with a balance of 1000 points: I wouldn't have been able to leave my house the way I did, pack my bag, or have everything I have on this trip if it wasn't for her. She is the woman behind the scenes.
Becki, exhausted from cleaning my room and running errands all day, hits the sheets. I Pete Rose into bed around 12.
I wake in pure panic at 6:49. We are supposed to wake @ 6:50. Success, because although Becki told me to set my alarm the night before, I was too busy checking Fantasy Baseball stats.
We rush out of the house, I print boarding passes while Joel and Becki rush to KMART for a cable. I wait outside, frantically checking my cell phone, and finally, after a call to Joel, hop in the car.
In the mornings at KMART, they have 3 people working the counters. So Becki and Joel, after 15 minutes of waiting, desperately drag a attendant to the camera counter only to have the obvious revealed- what is in the case is the extent of their product line. And by this time, it is too late for breakfast stops. Have you seen Sam hungry? You don't want to see me hungry.
We race to the BART, hop on with a minute to spare, and finally take a deep breath. It's at this point that Becki, while searching through her wallet, drops jaw and pales in face- she's missing $100 in traveler's checks and $180 in cash. Try searching through a full backpack on the BART at 9AM. Chalk it up.
At this point, Murphy's Law is in full swing. Becki can't remember if she even packed shoes (she's in flip-flops), while checking bags they tell us our flight is overbooked, my iPod select button stops working, and we both haven't eaten. I want to call Joel about the checks, my mom about our departure, and check my fantasy sports. My phone is dying and my charger is in checked luggage. Before sitting down to eat I realize the initial portion of our trip is transferred in Atlanta. We're in the International Terminal.
After we eat breakfast, skip water and have hard drinks, our flight begins to board. While en route to seats, it becomes very clear that a family of 3 1/2 is sitting in front of us. 2 hours of headrest entertainment delay the inevitable: the oldest girl, about 4, stands up and starts yelling gibberish at Becki, who earlier realized that one of her earphones doesn't work. I ignore her looks of restrained child abuse and turn up the volume on James Taylor's, "Carolina In My Mind". 20 minutes from landing, it is required that you "turn off all electronics" before landing. At this point their infant child wakes, and becomes quickly self-aware. By the time we stand up to file out of the coffin-like cabin, he sounds less like a crying child and more less a donkey scorn. Becki wants to go postal. I leave her alone.
Good news? We arrive early. Bad news? Now there's a layover. We relax at a Nathan's, scarf down some burgers, observe some interesting culture changes in Atlanta's International Airport, and make our way to the gate. The 7 hour flight moves quickly- free movies ahoy, and you get to pick your own! Mid- flight meals were chicken with corn, with bread, salad, and a delicious brownie. Becki eats little and attempts to sleep. Cue Murphy.
Becki wakes complaining of a stomach ache, and after landing, but waiting to unload, she pukes into the bag the was covering the bottles of Crown Royal and Smirnoff I bought at the duty-free store in Atlanta. We leave the plane, and Becki looks like death.
Finally, we arrived here, at our hostel, 3 hours too early for check-in, tired, and Becki is looking like she is half-asleep. After wandering aimlessly, taking pictures before the camera died- I started typing. It's raining pretty hard, welcome to Dublin!
I'm rambling. Naptime. It's 2:15PM
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